To Give Thanks for a Friend
by randomlvr1
Summary: What are you thankful for this year? More importantly, are you brave enough to admit it? .:for hannaadi88:.


_Title: _To Give Thanks for a Friend  
_Summary: What are you thankful for this year? More importantly, are you brave enough to admit it? .:for hannaadi88:.  
Characters/Pairings: EnglandXJapan, America, France, Sealand, Hungary, and a mysterious girl ;3  
Rating/Warnings: K+ for a kiss and some language, but I'm sure you don't mind ;3  
Genre: Romance/Humor - I think I'll start soliciting Fanfiction for a 'cuteness' genre. I direly need it.  
Word Count: 1,881 w/o the toppings  
Notes:** Dedicated to my** **Hanna-wa (Hannaadi88)**, for her birthday and a monument for my pure adoration for her! X3 You brilliant girl, don't dare claim you do not deserve this - it will break my heart if you do! T_______T My apologies for the wait, and for the very misleading beginning. TAT Can I make it up to you with my love?_

**_Uh . . . Go vote in my poll? '8D Please?_**

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"Hey Artie! Are you on some kinda diet? C'mon - eat more!"

Thanksgiving - England was sure that only America would use a national holiday as an excuse to pig-out for a day. Not that he needed an excuse every time he chased burger after burger down his throat with a liter of soda. It was gluttony if England had ever seen it, and the small 'thankful' theme tacked on hardly made up for it.

It was like the alcohol wipe given to a prisoner before the deliverance of a lethal injection - completely useless, and only for appearances. England really shouldn't have been surprised that America's idiocy reached this far.

But, thus far, he had been spared from _participation_ in this joke of a holiday. Maybe it was the ridiculous threat of 2012 hanging in the air, or just another one of his arbitrary whims. Whatever the reason, England found an invitation (crudely made, if he did say so himself) to America's annual binge-fest this year, and wished that he had burnt the letter the second he pulled it out of his mailbox.

But he hadn't, and, as punishment for his careless ways, his boss had stumbled across it (more like rifled through his private belongings) and ordered him to attend the dinner with a sure smile on his face, and all hostilities under the welcome mat. It was for the well-being of the relations that had taken the toll of time and mistrust, his boss assured him.

England relented, being the charitable nation he was, and arrived at America's house on Thanksgiving, checking his smile in at the door and tucking his hostilities into his pocket for its awaited use.

"_You're _the one that should be on the diet," England argued, eyeing America's two plates of turkey, potatoes, and other fats with deep repulsion. "But if you are going to insist on gorging on your own weight in food, please don't accuse me of eating dietary amounts." With an impatient huff, he turned on his heel to leave America to oversee the buffet of food, only to crash into a buzzed and excited Frenchman.

"Watch out, _mon cher_," France cautioned with a meaningful wink. "But I'll have to agree with America - you do not seem to enjoy the pleasures of food. Though, I can sympathize with you since this food is not much better than your own. Personally, I shall keep to my wines this evening."

If America hadn't caught the wino-bastard in the face with a baked potato, England was sure he would have done the honor and more. But, for the moment, he couldn't hold any gratitude towards America for saving him the effort.

"Why in the bloody hell did you that?!" England demanded of his pouting once-ward. His fingers twitched underneath his plate laden with Thanksgiving 'delicacies', tempting ammo at the ready.

"He was insulting my turkey!" America insisted childishly, gesturing toward the fallen man who was now surrounded by two Germans in mourning for the blatant waste of potato. "I couldn't just let him get away unpunished. I am the hero, the server of justice, after all!"

England knew this night would somehow link back to America's so-called heroism. Neither did it surprise him when France slithered off the floor and attached himself to the other's side. "Well, the 'hero' must exercise this dinner off or else become fat. Luckily, Uncle France can be of service . . . tonight." He gave another sultry wink and snaked a wandering arm around America's shoulders.

Unable to take any more the inanity that was sure to affect him, England gave a roll of his eyes and turned away just in time to miss France's drifting hand drift further. He found the dining room with little trouble, only to discover it was completely deserted in favor of the floorshow being provided in the kitchen. The only soul in the room beside himself was Japan, sitting awkwardly at a table pushed far-off into the corner. He scanned the empty room piteously again before joining Japan at his lonely table.

At the sound of a scraping chair, Japan looked up from his dissection of the little food he had taken with minimal interest. He bowed his head and mumbled a robotic, "Hello, England-san," before turning back to pick at his food.

"You don't seem to be eating very much," England remarked with the intention of small-talk.

Japan didn't look up from his plate, replying airily, "I'm rather cautious of America's food." The tips of his ears went red, and he gave England a panicked glance. "Not that it isn't good, but it's just that-"

"Oh, I won't tell him," England waved off, prodding at his own food. "Or maybe I will - the lad ought to know his food is absolutely retched."

"O-Of course," Japan murmured quietly as his eyes slid back to his thoroughly tried food thoughtfully.

England fidgeted in his seat uncomfortably, finding there was nothing else to say to the carefully detached nation. What could be said with two equally quiet nations - one with a naturally introverted disposition, and the other suffering from a case of schoolgirl puppy-love?

Nothing, nothing at all, England concluded, lest he make a completely fool of himself.

"England-san?" Japan asked meekly. England immediately looked up from the table and caught Japan's steady gaze. "I was researching America's 'Thanksgiving' when I received his invitation, and there is apparently a tradition where you state what you are thankful for."

The blond nation stared blankly at Japan for a second too long before realizing that he was supposed to offer an answer. "Oh! Well, I suppose I'm thankful for . . ." England hesitated. He _could_say something deep and thoughtful, but his mind could only draw unhelpful blands. "Er, I suppose I should just be thankful that America hasn't destroyed us all with his idiot plans of saving us from an enemy who isn't there."

He felt as smart as the nation he'd just insulted at the moment, but what had been said had been said. Coughing to hide his embarrassment, he continued. "What are you thankful for, Japan?"

The Asian nation ducked his head modestly and pushed the food around his plate without aim. "I'm thankful for the food I receive-" He speared a slice of turkey with his fork and raised it hesitantly off the plate before dropping it again. "-and the friend I can share it with."

England didn't miss the singular use of the word 'friend', neither did he miss the endearing (Did he really just describe his friend in a degree of 'cute'? How far had he degraded?) flush dusting Japan's face. Smiling secretively, he turned to his plate and breathed a gentle, "Thank you."

Out of nowhere, a roughly made paper airplane sliced through the air and landed with a squeak from England in his untouched food. In a fit of rage and curiosity, he pulled apart the folded paper, distantly registering that his table-mate leaned closer him to read the note, and read the paper with furrowed eyebrows.

"'_Happy birthday, Hanna?'"_ they both read.

They exchanged confused glances, mutual inquisitiveness passing through them. England was suddenly aware of their close proximity, the way his eyes unconsciously raked over Japan's delicate features and followed the curve of his lips. He absently licked his lips.

No sooner did the thought pass through his mind (then roughly shoved back to whatever hell-hole it had been born from) then did something force his head forward and capture the lips he'd just been studying (merely looking, but not touching).

They parted a beat too slowly and were met with the sound of a boy's taunting laughter. Japan retreated to the extreme edge of the seat, not meeting the eyes of the many curious observers in the now-full room, and England turned to their aggressor with a death wish on mind and a thick blush on face.

"Sealand!" the furry-browed nation exclaimed. "I don't even care why you're here - why the bloody hell did you do that?!"

"Do what?!" Sealand laughed, crouching on the ground and clutching his rippling stomach. "You were the one who did everything!"

England launched out of his seat a second too late, grabbing only air in the place that his little brother once was, and watched in simmering rage as the self-declared nation stuck his tongue at his caretaker. "Catch me if you can, you old git!"

England was on his feet in one moment, near-strangling Sealand by the next. His eyes glinted with triumph, but he maintained the anger in his voice. "You have absolutely no _idea_ how much you'll be punished. For one, I'll be grounding you until you're an old man, or you're mature - whichever comes first - and-"

"But I'm going to Latvia's house next week!"

"-and, while you're at home, you'll be doing every single chore that needs to be done and a couple that don't need to be!" England raged. "Maybe I'll even-"

"You can't tell me what to do!" Sealand protested loudly as he tried in vain to wriggle out of England's uncompromising grasp. "I live with Mummy and Papa now!"

"I'm not his wife!"

"Yes, yo' 're."

"And besides," the micronation sustained, "it's not my fault."

"Oh, by god, it's not your fault!" England declared with false gusto. "Then whose was it? The faeries? I'll tell you now that I know that they took a vacation to Fiji's house and-"

"It was this lady, she paid me to do it! See?!" Sealand fished around in his pocket before drawing out a crumpled paper. "And she also talked to Hungary for some reason."

Huffing at words that reeked of suspicion, England snatched the noted from the boy's hand and inspected it impatiently. With an indignant sound, he dropped the paper on the floor and rubbed his face with a tired hand. "You, boy, really are absurdly daft. It's nothing but an 'IOU'. Hardly the payment you were expecting."

"Don't worry," Hungary quipped up from the other side of the room, waving her infamous camera dangerously. "I can pay him with the money I make off of _these_."

It didn't take very long for the two island nations to realize what she meant, but it was long enough for her to slip away and leave one fuming nation and another drowning in mortification gaping after her. Japan and England met eyes for a split second, and then looked away uncertainly.

With a glass of his wine on hand, France sauntered in the room and tasted the sweet unease in the air.

"What did I miss?"

* * *

_..::for hanna::.._

_happy birthday~_

_..::from tammy::.._


End file.
